


Lock and Key

by CricketScribbles



Series: All the Lives We Lead [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Drama, Everybody Lives, F/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, Post-Break Up, Romance, always will be, they're still stuck on each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CricketScribbles/pseuds/CricketScribbles
Summary: When Eudora gave Diego a key to her apartment (not that he needed it when the window was so convenient), he never got rid of it and she never changed the locks, even when their relationship was over. Or so they thought.





	Lock and Key

He still had a key to her apartment. She never changed the lock.

_“What’s this for?” Diego said when Eudora tucked the key into his palm._

_She perched on the edge of the bed, an oversized t-shirt sliding off of one bare shoulder. Morning was still hours away, her apartment soft and gray with fading night. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake or dreaming._

_“So you can learn to use the door like a normal human being,” Eudora replied. “Instead of climbing through my window at all odd hours of the day and night. You’re going to get yourself shot one day if you don’t cut it out.”_

_Eudora pressed a kiss to his lips with a warm, sweet smile. Diego curled his hand around the back of her neck, threading his fingers into her hair and drew her into bed with him again._

The key went unused. And yet it remained in Diego’s pocket to serve as a reminder that normal was within reach if he only had the courage to accept it.

Then one day, the invitation was off the table. The key was nothing more than a cold lump of metal in his pocket like a stone tied to his ankle, dragging him deep.

_“It’s over, Diego. We’re done.”_

But old habits died hard. Every night, Diego found himself at Eudora’s window, just to see that she made it home safely. Even when the echo of those words had long since faded to scars in the corners of his mind, he would always watch her back.

Tonight, Eudora had fallen asleep on the couch. A case file splayed open across her chest, papers spilling onto the floor. Her jacket was bundled up, stuffed behind her head, a poor substitute for a pillow.

Diego touched his gloved fingertips to the window.

“Burning the candle at both ends again, Detective,” he whispered.

He eased the window open and ducked inside. A pang of familiar scents washed over him as he stepped further into Eudora’s apartment—lavender shampoo, coffee, leftover Thai takeout from her favorite hole-in-the-wall place around the corner.

Diego forged his way through the bittersweet prickle of memories. After cleaning up the scattered file contents, he tucked them back into the folder and set it on the coffee table.

He used to carry Eudora to bed when she did this—worked herself to the point of exhaustion until she passed out, on the couch, at the kitchen table, even in the bathtub once or twice.

Diego stood there for a moment, weighing the consequences if he dared to gather her into his arms this time, tuck her into bed where she was warm and safe. She would kill him for it, probably taze him for breaking and entering too.

Besides, that pleasure of carrying Eudora off to bed was no longer an option. It belonged to before, now lost to the past.

Instead, he slid the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Eudora. He hesitated, lingering for a moment too long. Then, haltingly, he reached out with his little finger and swept a lock of hair from Eudora’s cheek—a minuscule luxury of contact, feeling monumental after so long without her.

***

When Eudora woke, the first thing she registered was the weight of a blanket instead of the file she had been studying late into the night.

Her gaze darted to the window.

It was cracked open, barely an inch, curtains rustling in a faint breeze.

Eudora shook her head. She should discourage him, tell him off for sneaking into her apartment while she was asleep.

Then she heard the drip, drip, sizzle of the coffee maker in the kitchen, followed by the sharp, bitter smell of coffee.

_“Don’t look so smug,” Eudora said, patting down her pockets for her keys._

_Diego sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Relaxed and taking his time as he watched Eudora's frantic dash through her apartment, running late for work._

_“I didn’t say anything,” he countered._

_“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”_

_“You’re always welcome to stick it to the boss and join me in the streets, babe. You’d look great in leather, too.”_

_“I refuse to respond to that,” Eudora called._

_By the time she passed the kitchen, Diego had moved to the doorway, leaning against the frame. He caught her elbow as she blew by. She boomeranged back to him._

_Diego pushed a cup of coffee into Eudora's hands and hooked an arm around her waist. Pulling her flush against him, he kissed her firm and lingering. Be careful, he never said, but the message came across loud and clear anyway._

Eudora closed her eyes and ducked her chin beneath the blanket. Maybe this could be an unspoken agreement too. No locks on the windows and coffee in the morning—the comforts of a routine neither one of them wanted to let go.


End file.
